Hell's angel part 2
by Marjorie Nescio
Summary: A Queen and a motor cycle? The combination is not to Joe's liking at all.
1. Sleepwalking

The principal characters (which are the only ones I will use) are not mine, they are Meg Cabot's and Disney's.

As for the time line: please imagine that King Rupert died some years ago. The story is set pre-PD1, and prince Philippe is alive.

This story is a sequel to ´Hell's angel´.

Hell's angel – part 2

Chapter 1 – Sleepwalking

´I told you! Iglesias swears that the registration papers say that the _Queen_ owns the motor cycle.´

´Right! If _Capras_ had been the one to drive the bike from the dealer to the Castle, I would believe you. But _Iglesias_? I-slept-with-the-Olsen-twins-Iglesias? You must be joking!´ the Master of Wine contributed to the discussion taking place in the Castle's kitchen.

Miss Breton, the Queen's first dress maid, remarked: ´It must be a present for prince Philippe.´

Silence was followed by laughter. How could they have been so silly? Of course it was a present! The prince's birthday was three months away, but why shouldn't Her Majesty spoil her son? His bike _was_ ten years old after all.

Mr Jonas shook his head. ´If it's his, why is _her_ name on the papers?´

´It _isn't_!´ the Master of Wine said.

´It _is_! To prevent him from driving it when she thinks he's reckless,´ gardener Claude explained.

The guards sat up straight when the Head of Security walked in to have lunch. He was followed by Miss Kutaway. Mrs Danieli, the cook, said: ´The idea of the Queen buying a motor cycle for herself is as crazy as... as...´

Joe's expression made her forget about finding a comparison.

´Are you alright Mr Romero?´

Charlotte said: ´It must be for prince Philippe. He's returning home today.´

Mrs Danieli said that it was exactly what everyone was thinking.

´Iglesias told me it's a great machine. He drove up the parking of Old Sam's, that road house near Antiem, to make the other bikers jealous,´ Claude said.

Iglesias! Joe suddenly remembered that just before he had gone to his room the previous night, he had heard some guards talk. He hadn't paid much attention, just noticed Iglesias being mentioned, but when the Queen was brought into the conversation, he had focused to hear more. Motor cycle, stables... It hadn't made sense to him, but he now understood the origins of the nice dream he'd had. He shook his head. Honestly, just when he had more or less gotten rid of the picture of the Queen in a motor suit, everyone talked about her buying a motor cycle.

´Lucky Philippe!´ he heard someone say. That did it: there was nothing dreamy about the prince in a leather suit. He would make it through the day after all.

OoOoOoO

The Queen and her youngest son left the Castle. The prince offered his mother his arm.

´I can't believe you've actually bought it.´

´I _have_ Philippe. And you'll love it.´

Joe followed the royals to the stables, where the horses whinnied them a welcome.

The Queen gave each animal a quick caress.

´Hello old girl,´ the prince greeted his mare, ´I'll be back, but I have to go to the garage now.´

´How so?´ the Queen wanted to know.

´To see that marvellous bike!´

´It's here.´

´Mother, this is a _stable_. _Normal_ people park a motor cycle in the garage. Wouldn't you say so Joe?´

Joe coughed. ´It _is_ usual to do so, Your Highness.´

´Garages come with mechanics, don't they?´ the Queen said to her son.

The prince laughed and playfully hit his mother on her behind.

´Philippe!´

Joe managed to look blank.

The Queen walked, nay, almost floated, to the last box and smiled radiantly. Her son followed her.

´Good Lord, Mother! That is one hell of a bike!´

´Do you like it?´

´I love it! It's a powerful machine, and ...´

He caressed the seat.

´It's also elegant.´

He looked at his beaming mother.

´I think it's you. Why don't you step aside.´

The Queen stepped back.

´I was right,´ the prince said after walking around the motor cycle admiringly, ´_without_ you it's a well lined bike, but...´ he gestured her to come near and she obliged, ´_with_ you it's an elegant vehicle.´

´Oh really Pumpkin.´

Joe suppressed a grin.

The prince put his arm around his mother's waist and with his free hand lifted her right hand to his lips to kiss it.

´It's _perfect_,´ he said, looking at the machine.

Joe silently agreed.

´But you know Mother, I just _can't_ picture you riding it.´


	2. I bet, you bet

Chapter 2 – I bet, you bet

It had taken some discussion, but the Queen's servants now took for granted that the shiny motor cycle in the stables was Her Majesty's property. But why had she bought it?

´There are four bets now,´ Claude silenced his colleagues.

´Bet one: it's something ethical -´

´Mon Dieu!´ Mr Tally commented, ´Make that aesthetical.´

´That's what I said! She likes the lines of the motor cycle and she just wants to watch it from time to time.´

His colleagues argued that Her Majesty would never buy such an expensive thing just to look at it.

´She buys paintings and sculptures,´ Claude contradicted them, ´why not a great bike too?´

Mr Tally rolled his eyes.

´Well, bet two: she is pulling a joke at the prince. It is _his_ after all. He just doesn't know it yet - ´

´Because she wanted to know for sure that he liked it!´ Miss Breton (who persisted that her Queen would never ride a bike) defended her idea.

´Righty, now number three says that she bought it because she wants to get her license and that she will get it, because she already bought a bike...´

Although many people nodded understandingly, Claude clearly didn't see the logic behind the idea.

´The last one, bet four, says that the Queen bought the motor cycle to ride it herself.´

Again he had to hush his colleagues. Miss Breton's shrill voice reached new heights.

Mr Jonas insisted that a line should be added to bet four, saying Her Majesty had already gotten her licence. Claude obliged, muttering something about hair-splitters.

The servants and courtiers made their bets.

´Great,´ Claude commented, looking at the filled list in front of him, ´the bet is closed. Now we need to find out why the Queen bought the bike.´

OoOoOoO

The Queen's motor cycle just stood in the stables. No one knew what to make of it. The dress maids, who felt a sudden inclination to clean Her Majesty's wardrobe, said that they hadn't found a motor suit. Miss Charlotte, who was as curious as anyone, dared not ask the Queen what she meant to do with the bike. She still believed that it was the prince's motor cycle, but why didn't the man ride it? His Highness might, from his age and position, be more accessible than the Queen his mother, but no one even _dreamt_ of asking him which bet was the right one.

After days of maddening insecurity, Mrs Danieli prepared Mr Romero's favourite food and skilfully arranged to sit next to him at dinner. He liked the soup, he liked the meat, and he praised the salad's dressing. The cook smiled and said: ´I bet it is the best salad you've ever had?´

The Head of Security grinned charmingly and took another bite. Mrs Danieli licked her lips and asked him if he ever made bets.

´I play poker Mrs Danieli, I seldom make bets.´

´You don't do you?´

She turned around, knowing she would find Claude behind her.

´Tell me Claude, did the Head of Security make a bet about the bike?´

´Nope.´

Joe frowned.

´Surely you know about it?´ Mrs Danieli asked, rubbing her fork against the table cloth as if to polish it.

´I soon will.´

It was encouragement enough, but the cook didn't look at the Head of Security when she said: ´There's a bet going on about why Her Majesty bought a motor cycle. Most people believe that she didn't buy it to ride it herself.´

Joe had been relieved that the Queen had not mentioned the bike after showing it to the prince. It enabled him to ignore the thing, at least when he was awake. He sighed.

´What _do_ they believe?´

The cook told him about the bets.

Bets one and two didn't make sense to Joe. Unlike bikes, old paintings tend to become more valuable over the years. And as for making a joke at the prince's expense, that was not like the Queen.

Knowing what His Highness had said in the stables, bet four seemed the one to spend money on, but it included her having a license.

Which she didn't have!

Why hadn't he thought of that before? Idiota!

His dreams had turned into nightmares, in which the Queen laid lifelessly on the asphalt.

But she didn't have a license! Bet three was the only logical option!

And she would never get it, because she simply didn't have time to take lessons. And if she _would_ find a gap in her diary, he would make sure something would interfere with her intention to ride the damn bike.

OoOoOoO

A fortnight passed.

Courtiers waiting for the Queen to arrive to open the monthly staff meeting, talked about whether Her Majesty had visited the stables several times now to check on a horse that had taken ill and, while there, glance at the motor cycle or if she walked to the stables to admire the bike and, while there, inform after the animal's health.

´Miss Kutaway, perhaps you could ask Her Majesty if you need to schedule driving lessons for her,´ Viscountess Margoli suggested. She had made a bet and although there was not a lot of money at stake, she was very focused on the whole Queen plus motor cycle idea. So much so that she didn't notice that the gentlemen rose.

´She will need to get her licence after all. It _has_ to be bet number three.´

´Please be seated.´

´Your Majesty!´

The Viscountess turned red.

´What is it Viscountess?´ the Queen said with a twinkle in her eyes.

The lady proved to be a descendant of brave soldiers. Or perhaps she simply believed that the Queen had heard every word she'd said. No point in denying...

´I was, we were... wondering if you... will have time... to get yourdrivinglicence.´

´Get my what?´

The only one who eyed the Queen was her Head of Security.

´The motor cycle, in the stables...´ the Viscountess continued, feeling rather miserable. Good Lord, imagine the Queen riding a bike, it seemed insulting.

´Oh, I see...´ Her Majesty said and she opened the meeting. When she closed it an hour later, the Viscountess was at ease again.

´Pray tell me Viscountess, I heard you mention a bet?´

The Queen felt like laughing aloud because of the tension that suddenly filled the room. She gave her lady in waiting a sweet smile. It even fooled Joe in thinking that she was unaware of the excitement her motor cycle had caused.

The lady glanced at her colleagues, hoping they would assist her in informing the Queen about the bets. Mr Tally checked if there was enough ink in his pen. Mr Delgana watched him. Mr Jonas studied his cuff-links. Miss Kutaway re-read her notes. The Head of Security looked at the Queen. The Viscountess sighed.

´There are four bets ma'am. The first says that the motor cycle is like a painting to you.´

´Oh?´

´An object you bought because you like to look at it.´

´Seriously!´

´What was the second bet again Mr Tally?´ the noblewoman wondered.

The man cleared his throat, not too happy with the Viscountess involving him.

´It says that the vehicle is prince Philippe's.´

Silence.

´I am getting curious about the other bets,´ Her Majesty said.

It was a command to speak.

´The third bet is about Your Majesty buying a bike as an encouragement to get your licence,´ a red faced Mr Delgana replied.

Silence.

´Who is going to tell me about bet number four?´

The Queen looked at Charlotte, at the Viscountess, at Mr Delgana, at Mr Tally, at Mr Jonas and just before she was going to shift her gaze to her Head of Security, Joe spoke.

´The last bet says that you will ride it yourself and that you already have your motor licence ma'am.´

The Queen raised an eyebrow. She secretly enjoyed herself. Her senior staff were sitting there like naughty children, waiting to be punished.

´Pray tell me,´ she said, while collecting her documents, ´are there _many_ people who have actually put money on bet number four?´

She rose, causing the others to stand also.

Viscountess Margoli giggled nervously and told the Queen that the only person who had chosen that bet was Mr Jonas.

The Queen studied her legal advisor. The man felt uncomfortable. When his liege smiled at him, he relaxed a little, until he remembered that a smile sometimes was an introduction to a tongue-lashing.

The Queen looked at her Head of Security, who took the cue and opened the door for her.

´Ladies, gentlemen.´

She turned around in the doorway.

´Mr Jonas?´

The man swallowed.

´Your Majesty?´

´Congratulations.´


	3. A special delivery

Chapter 3 – A special delivery

Joe had had a morning off, and he passed the stables on his way to the Castle, ready to get back to work. The doors were open and he looked inside. A slim lady was listening to the Master of Stables, while caressing a horse's head.

´Good morning Baron. Is everything all right?´ Joe inquired, walking towards them.

´Mr Romero,´ the nobleman nodded, ´I was telling Her Royal Highness about Rosemonde's recovery.´

The lady looked Irish or Scottish, with her green eyes and auburn hair, but Joe realised she must be the Dutch princess Emma, who would be Her Majesty's guest for a few days.

´Your Highness,´ he greeted her, inclining his head.

The Baron made the introductions.

´Your Highness, if I may, this is Mr Romero, Her Majesty's Head of Security. Her Royal Highness princess Emma of the Netherlands.´

The princess greeted Joe with a smile. He noticed that she had her mother's teasing eyes.

´I am sorry for not having been present to greet you, as Her Majesty had asked me to do,´ Joe told her.

´It is not your fault that I arrived too early Mr Romero.´

The princess addressed the Master of Stables.

´Could you show me where Her Majesty hides her motor cycle, Baron?´

´Of course Your Highness. If you would follow me?´

´My my,´ the princess said when looking at the bike.

´Her Majesty _does_ know what to buy doesn't she?´ she smiled.

The gentlemen refrained from commenting.

´Thank you for showing me the horse powers, Baron.´

The princess greeted the nobleman and asked Joe if he planned to walk to the Castle. On his affirmative reply, she suggested she'd accompany him.

He didn't object and offered to carry the bag she picked up.

´It is not heavy Mr Romero.´

´Nonetheless, I will be my pleasure to relieve you from it.´

She handed him the luggage.

The princess must be stronger than she looked like, for Joe thought that the bag if not very heavy, was not light either.

While Her Highness delighted in the sight of white, yellow and purple crocuses, Joe made small talk.

Lifting the bag, he said: ´Her Majesty had hoped you would bring her bestonye cookies.´

The princess smiled.

´Bastogne,´ she corrected him, to continue, ´You are not wrong in thinking that I have imported cookies Mr Romero. They have already been sent to the kitchen. This bag contains another item Her Majesty desperately needed: her hand tailored motor suit.´

A muscle near Joe's right eye began to twitch. The princess's expression didn't give away that she made a mental note to buy her mother the chocolate she had just won.

OoOoOoO

´Emma!´

The Queen smiled happily when seeing her friend's daughter.

´Hello aunt Clarisse, how are you this many a day?´

They embraced each other.

´I am fine. I am sorry I couldn't see you earlier, but the session with Parliament run out.´

´As long as you had a good time.´

The Queen laughed.

´Joseph welcomed you on my behalf I am sure?´

´He had every intention to do so, but I arrived horribly early. We met at the stables.´

Joe apologised again, this time to his Queen.

´You have a marvellous bike aunt Clarisse,´ the princess told her.

The Queen smiled proudly: ´It is a beauty isn't it? Did you...´

The princess pointed at the bag in Joe's hand: ´There it is.´

´Excellent. Could you have it brought to my suite Joseph?´

Joe inclined his head.

As the Queen and the princess walked to the Oval Room to have lunch, the Head of Security decided that there was no need to have a footman deliver the bag to Her Majesty's suite. He would do it himself.

OoOoOoO

Joe was one of few who was allowed to enter Her Majesty's suite, but he didn't walk into it often. And only _once_ had he entered her bedroom.

It had been on the day of King Rupert's funeral. When she'd entered the corridor to her suite, late in the evening, she had missed her footing and she hadn't objected when he'd slipped his arm around her shoulders to steady her. He had supported her all the way to her bed, where he had left her, after covering her with a quilt. He had been completely focussed on her and so he only had a faint recollection of her bedroom. Elegant, warm, rich.

OoOoOoO

It really wouldn't do if he would just leave the bag here, would it? She might stumble over it. He'd bring it to her wardrobe. Which could be reached via her bedroom. This time Joe registered more of the surroundings, but he felt awkward and he used the door to the wardrobe as a beacon. He was just about to drop the bag there, both disappointed and relieved that the doors of the closets were closed, when it occurred to him that Her Royal Highness might want the bag back.

Neither the Queen nor the princess had mentioned it, but it had naturally slipped their minds when they had greeted each other. He unzipped the bag and inhaled. Leather.

_This is not right Joe. You have every intention of preventing her from riding that damn bike and if your scheming works, she'll never wear her suit._

_You're right_, Joe told his conscience and he zipped the bag. Along with a finger.

´Ay!´

_Serves you right, _Conscience Joe remarked. _You don't have a problem with the _prince _riding a bike, now do you?_

_Had I been a Head of Security all those years ago, _Joe replied, _I might have opposed to him riding a motor cycle._

_Liar! You're a biker yourself. You would never have objected to a young man driving a bike._

Stepping out of the Queen's suite, Joe was pleased with himself for not having looked at her motor suit.

OoOoOoO

Unfortunately for Joe, dress maids don't feel uncomfortable handling clothes.

At tea time there was a sudden silence in all conversations going on in the kitchen, except for the one between Mrs Fabrice, the housekeeper, and Rebecca, the Queen's second dress maid.

´... always tries to hide it, you know, wearing coats to cover...you know. However, her motor suit must fit like a second - ´

´Motor suit?´ Mrs Danieli eagerly asked, ´The Queen's motor suit?´

Rebecca nodded.

´Tell me! How does it look like?´

Joe quickly asked his neighbour whether he agreed that Mateo Fernandez was very talented. Luck wasn't with Joe. His neighbour was Mr Jonas, who didn't enter into an enthusiastic and loud conversation, but merely said: ´Who?´

´- lines on it. I think they reflect light,´ Rebecca said. She pointed from her armpits to her waist. ´Here and also here,´ she explained, indicating a line from her shoulders over her breasts and down. ´And it is made of the _finest softest_ leather. Even Miss Breton had to admit that the material was first class.´

´Of course!´ the cook responded.

´He's a Genovian football player, who plays for Aalborg BK, but he got an offer from Feyenoord to come to Rotterdam,´ Joe explained for Mr Jonas's benefit.

Out of politeness the courtier, who wouldn't even recognise Maradona, asked the Head of Security if the football player would accept the offer. Joe replied that Aalborg didn't want the contract to be broken. A contract! This aroused the legal advisor's interest. His lecture about footballers, clubs and modern slavery found a willing ear in the Head of Security, who heard nearly nothing about Queens, bikes and motor suits. When the legal advisor concluded his tale, people talked about whether or not prince Philippe would marry princess Emma.

OoOoOoO

Later that day Joe was summoned to the Queen's office.

´I realise it is short notice Joseph, but I want to go riding with my son and princess Emma tomorrow morning. Can you arrange for that to happen?´

She was busy signing papers. When her bodyguard didn't reply, she looked up, removing her glasses.

´Joseph?´

His eloquence in explaining why it could _not_ be arranged, was worth a nobler cause, and at last the Queen gave in.

After promising her that he would take measures to allow her to ride her motor cycle as soon as possible, Joe left.

_You could very well have arranged everything from the moment you heard the prince talk to her in the stables. That was _weeks _ago, _Conscience Joe said.

_I thought he was joking, _Joe answered.

_No you didn't!_

_And she could have told me before._

_You're the Head of Security! And you _knew _about the motor cycle!_

_Well still, the prince's guards know what to do, the princess has her own men to protect her, but Iglesias and Capras haven't got a clue. Not on a bike. They need to be trained first. _

_Huh!_

OoOoOoO

When princess Emma switched off the light that evening, someone started drilling between her eyes. She laid down on her bed, hoping it would pass. It usually did. It _had_ to: she looked forward to the ride.


	4. An unexpected chance

Chapter 4 – An unexpected chance

When prince Philippe saw princess Emma walk into his mother's suite to have breakfast, he put his napkin down and walked towards her. The Queen turned in her chair.

´Emma! What is it?´

The prince escorted the pale princess to her seat and knelt by her side after she'd sat down, placing his hand on her upper arm as if afraid she'd fall of her chair.

´A little headache,´ the princess managed.

The Queen eyed her suspiciously. She'd heard about Emma's migraine attacks. She ordered a pot lapsong souchong tea and closed the curtains.

´Did you take medication?´ Philippe asked as he rose.

´Yes.´

After three cups of tea, the princess declared she felt better. But she flinched when Philippe's signet-ring touched his tea cup.

´We are _not_ going riding,´ Philippe decided.

´_You_ can go riding,´ Emma slowly said.

´Nonsense. We'll go together or we won't go at all.´

Emma gave him a feeble smile and raised her tea cup to her face, to inhale the smoky scent. She was glad that Philippe and aunt Clarisse didn't feel the need to start a conversation. After a few minutes an idea came up in her misty mind.

´Why don't _you_ go aunt?´

´I can't darling,´ the Queen whispered, ´Joseph has to arrange security.´

´Use mine.´

The Queen looked at her son and shook her head. He pushed his chair back, careful not to make a sound and tiptoed to his mother's desk.

´You don't have any appointments this morning mother,´ he softly said.

OoOoOoO

Once a year Joe visited the Commander of the Pyran Police. They talked about security related items and when there was time left, they shared memories about the marines. Joe had left for his meeting at the moment the princess had entered the Queen's suite. When he returned to the Castle some hours later on he walked straight to the security room. His number one, seeing him approach via the monitors rehearsed what he would tell his boss about the Queen's outing.

´Teballi,´ Joe greeted his right hand, ´Is everything al right?´

´Yes sir.´

Teballi expected his boss to ask about Her Majesty's whereabouts. He glanced sideways. The chief stared at the monitor showing the main entrance at the outer gate.

_That is not Her!_ Conscience Joe firmly said. _It is the princess. The protective layers of her suit make her look voluptuous! And besides, on a monitor people look different._

Joe cleared his head.

´The prince returns sooner than he had planned. I hope all went well.´

´As far as I know it did,´ Teballi replied.

Joe told him he would be in his office and left. Teballi blessed his good fortune.

OoOoOoO

On his way to his office several people had something to ask him and when Joe thought he had finally gotten rid of them all, he was addressed by someone he couldn't ignore. He stopped and turned around. The prince was still wearing his motor suit, it's jacket unzipped.

´Your Highness. You've returned earlier than was planned. I hope all went well?´

´Absolutely. She's an excellent rider.´

´Yes, I've seen her on a monitor just now. She handles her bike well.´

_So you didn't just notice that suit, did you? _Conscience Joe whispered.

´Glad you agree Joe,´ the prince smiled. ´It's a shame Her Royal Highness got such a horrible headache though.´

´That's why you returned earlier,´ Joe understood.

´Well, Her Majesty made sure she is taken good care of. Although I suppose all she needs are darkness and silence. I'll check on her later on.´

OoOoOoO

´If _I_ had been the princess, I'd also have asked the Queen if I could ride her bike,´ mechanic Andreo said during dinner. His colleagues nodded.

Joe's fork stopped in mid-air, if only for a moment. He stopped listening to LeBlanc's praise for John Irving, and focussed on the conversation going on at the nearby table.

´She looked hot in that suit.´

Joe heard appreciative sounds.

_I am not the only one who thought so._

They _refer to the _princess_, _his conscience replied.

´Do you know that that idiot Justin here actually wanted to whistle?´

´What's wrong with that?´ another voice said, ´I see a chick like that, I whistle.´

´The prince was there too! Would you like it if some moron like yourself whistled at your girlfriend?´

Justin wasn't offended: ´I wouldn't mind. Means that I'm cool and that my woman is hot!´

Kitchen maid Isabel bent over the table to replace an empty bowl. Justin asked her if she would mind if someone showed his appreciation for her looks.

´What did you do?´ the pretty young woman wanted to know.

The men grinned.

´He almost whistled at the princess - ´ Andreo started.

´She was wearing her helmet! She wouldn't have heard me anyway.´

Isabel shrugged. She didn't mind it when men whistled at her. As long as they didn't call her names, she thought it was cute.

Justin believed she looked disapprovingly, so he gave her more information.

´This morning, this ch- lady walked out of the stables, long legs, nice butt, big boobs, I mean, if you look like that and men _don't_ whistle, wouldn't you be offended?´

Isabel thought about it. Then she realised: ´This morning?´

Justin shrugged: ´Yeah.´

´That wasn't the princess _you... you..._ !´

LeBlanc stopped describing what 'A prayer for Owen Meany' was about when he saw the look on his boss's face.

´Sir?´

´The princess had a migraine attack,´ Isabel told Justin. ´Don't you hear _anything_ out there, _you... you..._?´

Joe turned around to address Isabel: ´They returned earlier because of Her Royal Highness's headache, but the prince and princess _did_ go riding.´

Everyone – well, everyone except for the mechanics – realised that the Head of Security, who normally knew everything there was to know about the Queen, hadn't been told about her taking a ride. No one would have informed him, if it wasn't for Colonel Frerer who had walked in moments before.

´The princess didn't go riding, Mr Romero. Her Majesty went instead. She was protected by the princess's guards.´

Justin turned red. Joe dropped his napkin on his plate.

´Teballi,´ the Head of Security barked, ´you're with me.´


	5. Lady in leather

Chapter 5 - Lady in leather

When the Queen entered her sitting room to have breakfast, she sighed at seeing the table laid for one. Philippe had left for New Zealand. She would miss him, but at least she wouldn't see his grin all the time. He had teased her for weeks. She had told him he looked like the Cheshire Cat.

´Ha!´ he had said, ´then you would be Cat Woman!´ He had roared with laughter and if she hadn't cast some nearby maids a glance, she was sure they would have giggled.

_The prince, the princess and the mysterious leather-clad lady!_

It had been the headline of 'Tittle-tattle', a major gossip magazine. Her aid had kept it out of her sight, but Philippe had read her a line from the article: ´an unknown lady, with the long legs and shapely body HRH admires.´

She hadn't understood.

´In the next issue it will be revealed that the so called _unknown_ lady is Emma.´

Philippe had accompanied his motor cycling Dutch friend on the first part of her journey home and she figured they had been caught by a photographer.

´You think so?´ he had asked, ´Page twelve Mother.´

Page twelve showed Emma, page thirteen showed _her_, also known as ´the attractive cyclist on her powerful bike´.

Admittedly, part of her was pleased with the description. That was the hidden feminine part. But mostly she felt that a Queen should not have a body. At least not one that was acknowledged by her subjects. Surely she had worn evening dresses that were more revealing, but well, leather...

It _was_ the best material for a motor suit.

Shoes, bags, saddles, fine. But Queens can't wear leather suits Clarisse, she remembered telling herself, months ago, standing in front of a huge mirror in the fitting-room of Emma's tailor.

But she hadn't undressed. She had stared at herself, feeling sensual. She must have stood there for a while, for Emma, waiting in the ante-room, had asked her if everything was all right.

´I don't know if this is a goo-´

´Try the helmet aunt Clarisse.´

It had made all the difference. She didn't recognise herself any more. No one would. She'd put her visor up. It was hard not to recognise her own eyes, but she figured that no one would expect _her_ of all people to drive a motor cycle. No one would say ´There's the Queen on a bike.´

The article in the gossip magazine had proved it. And it also proved that she didn't have to feel awkward wearing her 'cat suit'. Philippe's phrase.

Pouring herself tea, she made a mental note to ask Joseph whether Capras and Iglesias were making progress at their motor cycle training for security personel. As of yet only the two of them and Joseph had a motor licence.

OoOoOoO

It was 11 pm and Joe was making a round. Conscience Joe walked beside him, casting him disappointed glances.

_It's for the best_, Joe told him.

_Her car can get an accident. Her air plane can explode. But you're not locking her inside because of that or are you?_

_This is different. A motor cyclist is a vulnerable road-user and a Queen on a motor cycle is an easy target._

_Right!_

Joe walked a little faster, hoping he would get rid of Conscience Joe. He had no such luck.

_Capras and Iglesias finally passed the bike training for security personnel and what do you do? You offer Teballi to help him make the schedules._

_It's not beneath me to do that kind of work._

_First you made our Queen agree with your ´I really think you need three guards with you when you ride your motor cycle ma'am´, _Conscience Joe angrily said._ And then you made sure that Ca__pras and Iglesias are never on the same shift any more.__ That is beneath you!_

Joe didn't respond.

_Sooner or later, _Conscience continued, _there'll be a beautiful day and she'll have time off and she will want to go for a ride. And you will reply, with you best poker face no doubt, that unfortunately only you yourself and _one _other guard are available and - _

_It will work out fine, _Joe interrupted. He tried not to think about something he had successfully managed to hide from Conscience so far.

_What's that?_ Conscience Joe sensed. _You _didn't_!_

_She´ll never know._

_Don't you think she's going to inquire after it? Well?_

_No. She trusts me._

_Ha!_

_I am not proud of it! It's for her own good._

_She will be _beyond _displeased when she finds out._

Joe nodded. Conscience was absolutely right. _If_ she found out...

OoOoOoO

It was a beautiful day and Her Majesty had time off.

´Surely two guards will be sufficient?´ the Queen tried,´And we can have a car following us.´

Joe gave her his best ´I am truly sorry but if there's _anyone_ who knows about security it's me´ look. She suggested that Iglesias would change a shift with LeBlanc.

´Normally ma'am, I'd agree, but Iglesias has had a double shift yesterday and I don't think it's wise to have him drive a motor cycle now.´

´You really should check Teballi's schedules Joseph,´ the Queen told him, unsmiling.

She walked to one of the French windows in her office, enjoying the clear blue sky and the numerous shades of green her garden offered. Joe enjoyed another view. When he was with her, he couldn't imagine his Valentino clad lady even _considering_ riding a motor cycle.

´Do you think a walk in the garden is acceptable Joseph?´

Joe inclined his head.

OoOoOoO

After walking for some five minutes, they came at a bifurcation. One path was leading to the rose garden, the other ended up at the stables.

Joe hoped the Queen would choose the rose-road, but she felt like swaying towards the stables, so that is where they headed.

´I have neglected my horses for too long,´ Her Majesty said.

When the wind got hold of the Queen's scarf, Joe hurried after it. The cloth was caught by a bush. Joe carefully removed it, to prevent the silk from being torn.

OoOoOoO

When the Queen entered the stables, she saw three guards admiring her motor cycle. They were oblivious of the horses whinnying: only the lifeless horsepower could interest them. The men were using technical terms she'd never heard off to describe the machine's specifics. Amused, she walked towards them.

´Do you think it has heated hand grips?´ one of the guards wondered aloud.

´I _know_ it has.´

The men turned around and stood at attention.

´Your Majesty,´ Bruni said after the Queen had made a gesture indicating they could rest at ease, ´We were just having a look.´

´And a talk,´ the Queen smiled, ´You know more about motor cycles than I do.´

´I'd love to have one,´ Bruni, feeling brave, said.

´But you _didn't_ want to get your licence?´

´A licence? Mr Romero asked us too a few weeks ago. But I can't afford a bike ma'am.´

The other guards, Vilais and Valais, nodded.

´So there's no point in me paying good money for a licence ma'am.´

´Surely the Head of Security -´

´Your Majesty,´ Joe interrupted her, ´I have caught it.´

´So I see.´

Joe handed her her scarf.

The Queen adjusted the accessory around her neck.

´If you could leave us gentlemen?´

´Of course Your Majesty.´

The Queen made eye contact with Joe before walking to her horses. He felt a shiver down his spine.

´Aren't you beautiful?´ Her Majesty told her Arab.

The mare whinnied and tried to put her nose against her Mistress's neck.

´Bruni told me he'd like to have his own motor cycle...´ the Queen started, gently pushing the horse's head away.

´I bet he would ma'am,´ Joe said, trying a smile.

She wiped it away with a look.

´Have you by any chance forgotten to inform your men that the two extra guards we need for the motor cycle team can get their driving-licence at our cost?´


	6. These boots are not made for walking

Chapter 6 – These boots aren't made for walking

With the passing of time Joe reconciled himself with the idea that the Queen owned a bike and a motor suit. It was helpful that Her Majesty's machine never left the stables but still when one day his lady informed him that an appointment had been cancelled and that she wanted to go for a ride in an hour's time Joe confidently and wisely replied that he would arrange things.

OoOoOoO

´Remember what I told you about the wireless,´ Joe instructed Capras and Iglesias.

The men nodded: Her Majesty's communication device was on their frequency and she would hear every word they uttered.

´I don't want to hear another _I saw a chick last night who owned four melons_ Iglesias!´

The three of them had had a test ride, using the new communication tool. With Capras riding in front of him, Iglesias had quite forgotten that his boss was behind him and he had been his usual subtle self. Rumour had it that Her Majesty had not been too fond of Mr Romero's suggestion to use an ear and microphone, but that she had agreed to give it a try. When Iglesias saw the Queen leave the stables, he put a piece of gum in his mouth, so he would remember to shut up.

OoOoOoO

_It's going just fine_, Joe mused.

The guards were silent and the Queen was an admirable motor cyclist. _In more than one way..._

´Capras, we will be going left on the roundabout,´ the Queen informed the guard who was riding in front of her.

´Yes ma'am,´ came Capras's reply.

The maximum speed on the motorway was hundred and thirty kilometres and Her Majesty kept to it. So did Joe. Or so he thought. The distance between him and Iglesias, who was the third motor cyclist, was increasing. Joe checked his speedometer. Hundred and twenty? He increased his speed. The gap didn't become smaller and the speedometer now read hundred and fifteen. A few hundred metres further on, Joe's bike had slowed down even more and he'd been passed by a car.

´Capras, go to the next filling station. Code four.´

Her Majesty had suggested to have the front driver being given orders. She'd told Joe that princess Emma used that method too. Joe had liked the idea: in case of need he could command a guard and he wouldn't have to give Her Majesty instructions.

OoOoOoO

There was a car-park behind the filling station and that's where Joe found Capras and Iglesias flanking their Queen. He drove towards them and got off his bike.

´What is wrong Joseph?´ the Queen wanted to know.

Although she had dismounted, she hadn't removed her helmet and her visor was down. She used her microphone to communicate.

Joe took off his helmet.

´My motor cycle is losing speed ma'am. It was down to ninety-seven when I arrived here. I will need to take it to a garage.´

´You can't _drive_ it there Joseph, it will be dangerous. I suggest you contact the Castle and have them sent a horse-box.´

Before the Queen could make more suggestions, Joe nodded and told her he would immediately take care of it. He made it for the filling station, taking his bike with him.

_That wasn't gentleman like Joe,_ Conscience Joe told him, _walking away like that_.

_She agreed to have _three _guards with her_, Joe reminded Conscience. _I will _not _return in the rear seat of a car._

Joe talked to the boss of the filling station, who allowed him to park his bike in a shed used by her employees. He returned to the leather clad Queen, who was checking her watch.

´I've arranged for my motor cycle to be safely stored here ma'am.´

´Fine,´ the Queen replied, ´will you wait here or can I give you a lift? My motor cycle is the only one that can carry two.´

Joe had heard her say something similar before, but then he'd been asleep. Some dreams just shouldn't come true.

´Have you ever driven a motor cycle with a passenger ma'am?´

´Yes I have Joseph. It was part of the driving lessons. Princess Emma didn't fear sitting on the passenger seat...´

_Merde!_

´But she is not nearly as heavy as I am ma'am.´

´As long as a passenger doesn't make silly moves, it is perfectly safe.´

´But I don't know where you're going,´ Joe tried, ´I might move left when you move right.´

´When you sense that I go right, it would not be wise to move left, would it?´

Iglesias, who'd removed his helmet, put some new chewing gum in his mouth.

The Queen, thinking Joseph's fears were gone, gestured the guards to mount. But a desperate Head of Security does not surrender just like that. Joe told Iglesias to hand his keys to Her Majesty so she could ride his motor cycle.

´You and I will return on her machine.´

´Excuse me?´

´Ma'am, as your Head of Security I strongly recommend you not to share a bike.´

´It is noted down Joseph. You have not convinced me. It is perfectly safe. Capras, Iglesias, we are leaving.´

Joe stepped towards her.

´Ma'am please. You've proven to be an excellent rider, but sharing a motor cycle... Please don't.´

It wasn't the compliment that made the Queen nod: there was no time for discussion and arguing with her Head of Security in front of his men just wasn't proper.

´The next time we go for a ride, make sure your motor cycle is in tip top shape Joseph.´

´I will, thank you.´

Joe told Iglesias to hand Her Majesty his keys. Why did the young man seem uncomfortable?

´Iglesias!´

The guard cleared his throat and pushed his gum against his left cheek.

´I've uhm. I've... I... Perhaps it's not a good idea sir.´

The Queen turned her head towards Iglesias. He just _knew_ she was raising her eyebrows and he hastily formulated his objection, addressing his boss.

´I've increased it sir.´

Silence.

´That's just _great_ Iglesias!´ Joe commented, ´We'll talk about this later on. Capras, have you increased your bike too?´

´No sir!´

´Good. Hand Her Majesty your keys please.´

Iglesias cleared his throat.

´Sir?´

´What is it?´

´_He_ didn't increase his bike. But _I_ did.´

´What?´ both Joe and Capras cried out.

The Queen walked to her motor cycle, shaking her head.

Joe mouthed _not a word!_ toward his men and hurried to prevent the Queen from mounting.

´I am sorry ma'am, but you can't use either of their bikes.´

´I understand that Joseph. We will have to share my motor cycle after all.´

´Could you hand me your keys please ma'am?'

A small sound escaped Capras's lips. Iglesias nearly swallowed his gum.

´Excuse me?´

´Could you hand me your keys please ma'am?´

Her Majesty put her visor up and stared at her Head of Security.

´So I can drive us home,´ he explained.

The Queen's look could have frozen Joe on the spot had he not stared at a truck behind her.

´In thirty minutes I have an appointment and it will take twenty minutes to get back.´

Joe wilfully misunderstood her.

´Well ma'am, when _I'm_ driving, we will certainly make it on time.´

By way of reply the Queen put her visor down, placed her hands on the wheel and swung her right leg over her motor cycle.

´I'm waiting Joseph.´

Joe walked towards her.

´It would not be appropriate for me... not to be driving.´

It sounded horrible in his own ears.

Capras paled. He didn't like it when people got themselves in trouble. Iglesias fanatically chewed his gum.

´Get on the rear seat,´ the Queen replied, dangerously even,´return with the car that will pick up your motor cycle or walk. Decide _now_.´

_We can do it!_ Conscience encouraged. _All will be well, don't worry. We'll manage! Just think of Viscount Mabrey!_

_I can't make it! She will be too near. Too close. I would have to hold –_ Joe replied.

_Mabrey in swimming-trunks! With his stomach hanging over and little flowers in his beard. You can do it! Joe please: she's angry. Get on that bike!_

Joe didn't even hear the Queen order his men to start their motor cycles.

´Joseph? We are leaving...´

Joe inhaled, visualising Conscience's horrid picture.

The Queen had waited long enough. ´Joseph!´ came her refined voice.

_Mabrey in a pink string!_ Conscience offered. With _Daisy Duck swimming belts around his fat upper arms!_

Joe tilted his head in appreciation for Conscience's imagination: this picture would enable him to sit behind her without causing embar-

´I see,´ the Queen concluded from the movement of Joseph's head. ´We will discuss this later on.´

She gestured Capras to lead and before Joe knew it, he stared at Iglesias's back.

While Conscience banged his fist against his fore head, Joe started walking down the car park. When he'd reached the spot where the car park ended and the slip road began, the three motor cyclists had long disappeared from sight. Joe turned around and walked back to the filling station to get his bike. No messages came through via the wireless.

OoOoOoO

His bike now managed eighty-eight kilometres an hour. Joe switched on the hazard warning lights. Seventy-five. Joe finally left the right lane and made it for the hard shoulder. At the first opportunity he left the motor way.

_Increasing a bike! What's the point of that? __That moron!_

_It's easy to blame Iglesias, isn't it? _Conscience interrupted, _Don't forget that _you're _the one who refused to -_

_I didn't! I was ready but she misunderstood._

_Oh! So now _she's _to blame? _

´Capras,´ he heard her voice in his ear, ´take the second junction for Pyrus.´

´Yes ma'am.´

_They_ were almost home. And _he_ had reached the village of Felton.

´Capras, Iglesias, the Head of Security's motor cycle broke down and we couldn't wait for it to be repaired. Understood?´

So they wouldn't talk... It was a small relief.

The maximum speed on the village road was thirty kilometres but it didn't take long before the locals saw a grim looking biker walking on the pavement, wheeling his vehicle. After a five minutes walk he stared at what used to be garage Claude. On the old wooden fence he read: _We've moved: behind chapel. _Felton was one of few Genovian examples of ribbon building. The chapel was six kilometres down the road.

Joe dragged his bike, his motor cycle boots and his sinking heart to the garage.


	7. An eye opener

Author's note: this is the final chapter of Hell's angel part 2. It centred around Joe's ideas about his Queen and a motor cycle and it ends with him witnessing her finally driving her bike.

After having finished reading all seven chapters perhaps you'd like to leave a review? I'll very much appreciate it.

Chapter 7 – An eye opener

When Joe entered the Queen's office, his liege checked her watch.

Joe swallowed.

´Today I learned that my Head of Security is a macho,´ the Queen greeted him.

Silence.

Joe's limbs made themselves felt even more.

The Queen placed some documents on a pile.

´A macho who neglected his duty.´

She gave him an icy stare. ´Pray tell me what other things besides wanting to drive my own motor cycle I _shouldn't_ be doing? Being a _woman_.´

Joe was relieved that she hadn't figured out what had bothered him. He was - for now – saved from giving a reply by a knock on the door, immediately followed by prince Philippe's entrance.

´Surprise!´

´Darling!´

The Queen rose to embrace her son.

She smiled at him happily: ´I thought you wouldn't arrive until the day after tomorrow.´

´But here I am,´ he replied, kissing her cheeks.

´Hello Joe,´ he greeted the Head of Security.

Joe inclined his head: ´Your Highness.´

Prince Philippe glanced from his mother to Joe.

´Am I interrupting?´

´Well yes you are,´ the Queen admitted, ´If you could leave us alone...´

´Did you get yourself in trouble Joe?´ the prince teased.

´Will you join me for tea in fifteen minutes Philippe?´ Her Majesty replied.

After the door closed behind the prince, all warmth left the Queen's eyes.

Joe quickly took the initiative and admitted that he had acted unprofessionally: he should have followed her suggestion and have someone pick up himself and his bike.

It was just – and he didn't tell her this – that he'd recalled it too late. He'd been on his way already and walking six kilometres wearing motor cycle boots was a punishment he deserved. Another idea that had presented itself too late was that he should have told Iglesias to stay behind, so he could have taken the guard's bike (increased as it was, but that mattered not for _him_).

At least there was one thing he'd done: ´I contacted Teballi to tell him to take charge until my return.´

The Queen raised her eyebrows.

Conscience Joe told him he was a moron. Joe couldn't agree more.

´I am not pleased with your choice to stay with your machine -´

She raised her hand to prevent him from replying.

´... but I am more concerned about your macho attitude. I am but a woman and should not be riding?´

Joe hated the idea that she thought he was a sexist pig, but he'd die of shame should she find out the _real_ reason why he couldn't sit behind her.

´Ma'am, please believe me that all I could think of was your safety,´ he replied.

´Really Joseph? Should I still believe that it was a communication error that made you forget to tell the guards about the free licenses? Or did that, in some weird way, have to do with keeping me safe as well?´

´That _was_ a communication error ma'am.´

_So why don't you look into my eyes? _the Queen wondered.

´I need to think this over Joseph,´ she said, picking up her pen.

He bowed his head and left.

OoOoOoO

Prince Philippe, upon leaving his mother's office, walked into Charlotte's domain. After exchanging small talk with the secretary, the prince casually remarked that Joe had seemed uncomfortable. He sensed that Charlotte wanted to avoid the subject, so he gave her a roguish grin. It made her blush and whisper.

´Joe's bike had to be fixed. I believe that Her Majesty wasn't pleased that it took him so long to return to the Castle.´

´If Joe wants to spend his spare time in a ga-´

He stopped talking when Charlotte shook her head.

´He and two other guards accompanied Her Majesty, and then his bike broke down.´

The prince informed after the damage, but Charlotte couldn't tell him about it.

´Well,´ the prince said, ´the Queen can hardly blame Joe for it.´

´No no, she doesn't,´ the loyal secretary explained, ´I'm not quite sure, but I _think_ that they had arranged for Joe to come back earlier, without him waiting for his bike to be repaired.´

´_I_ would want to be present when my bike needed mechanical attention,´ the prince said, adding: ´and I am sure Joe only stayed because he knew Her Majesty to be safe.´

OoOoOoO

Prince Philippe had often seen his mother pour tea, and he never failed to admire the elegant way in which she did so. He smiled fondly.

´Here you are darling,´ the Queen said as she handed him his cup and saucer.

´What is it?´ she smiled.

´Oh, I again realise that I have a gracious mother.´

He suddenly thought of something.

´You even ride your motor cycle elegantly.´

She raised her eyebrows.

He looked caught: ´You _are_ an elegant rider.´

She gave him a teasing smile: ´The subject being...´

´Please don't be hard on Joe. He's very good at his job and I can understand that he wanted to see what the mechanics were doing to his bike.´

´He was _on duty_ Philippe. And he is not his motor cycle's bodyguard.´

They drank their tea and the prince told his mother about a plan princess Emma had made.

´We are to tour in the Netherlands. She wrote down names of cities we'll pass or visit and they all have unpronounceable names with heaps of Gs in them. I think she made half of them up.´

´I very much doubt that. You might find your motor cycle lacking for petrol in a town called...´

The Queen concentrated.

´Ghou-jan-ver-welle-slois.´

Philippe raised his teacup by way of salute.

His mother shook her head.

´I never get the first and the last syllable right.´

´Well,´ her son said, ´if I should not be able to continue cycling in whatever ill-named town, I will ask Emma if she can give me a ride.´

The Queen smiled in her cup. She got Philippe where she wanted him.

´You would trust her to drive you?´

The phone rang. The Queen checked the display.

´It's the Prime Minister dear, I am sorry.´

Philippe gestured that he didn't mind her answering the call. As his mother was talking to Mr Motaz, he thought about her question. Of course he trusted Emma. She was unafraid, but not reckless. Unlike most bikers, she never disregarded the traffic rules, but she wasn't a sissy. He pictured himself sitting on her bike's rear seat. He'd have to hold her. Well, she was his friend. His female friend. With a body that was... attractive. He shook his head.

The Queen put down the phone. ´I am sorry darling. What were we talking about?´

´About whether I'd trust Emma to drive me.´

´Oh yes. Would you?´

´Of course I would.´

The Queen sipped her tea, relieved that her son was a modern man.

Philippe laughed: ´Imagine Mother, someone taking a picture of Emma driving me on her bike, my body pressed against hers. They'll say we´ll be married before the end of the year.´

´They say that _every_ year,´ the Queen smirked.

She had no difficulty discussing what to buy for Pierre's birthday even though she was thinking about a possible cause for Joseph's behaviour.

_My body pressed against hers_.

'I think your brother will appreciate a metre of thrillers,' she replied to Philippe's idea for a present.

She believed Philippe wouldn't mind holding Emma. Had the holding part been the reason for Joseph's refusal? Surely not? He was her bodyguard, close physical contact was needed now and then. He sometimes placed his hand on her lower back when guiding her through a crowd. Having to hold her wouldn't cause him to feel repul - .

A picture showed itself for her mind's eye. To suppress a naughty smile, she interrupted Philippe.

'Wrapping up all books as one present will tear the paper before Pierre can open his present.'

'I'll be careful and it would just be the outer layer of paper. I might wrap three or four books together. I'd just love to see him try to remove the paper. I'll put lots of tape around each parcel. It will be fun.'

With her son grinning about the joke he would pull his brother, she allowed herself a smile. Joseph on her motor cycle...

Could it be that Joseph agreed with 'Tittle Tattle' and thought her body to be _shapely_? Had he perhaps felt that he couldn't guard his _own_ body sitting behind her?

_A dirty mind is a joy forever Clarisse_, she told herself.

OoOoOoO

When the prince left he asked her again not to be hard on Joe.

'I will try not to,' she lied.

She would tell Joseph that she had realised she couldn't accuse him of being a macho on account of one unfortunate remark.

He would exhale and assure her that he was the _last_ person to think there was anything women couldn't or shouldn't do.

She would say that the prince had said that a biker would want to see what the mechanics were doing to his motor cycle.

Joseph would incline his head and remind himself to thank His Royal Highness.

As for neglecting his duty, she knew it would never happen again, no matter the state of his machine. She would give him a small smile then.

He would relax.

A wicked grin adorned Clarisse's face when she pictured the next scene. _The Castle's grounds are perfectly safe, aren't they Joseph?_

He'd nod. Confident and proud.

_To prove I can handle my motor cycle even with a passenger on it, I can drive you around on the grounds._

The muscle near his eye would start twitching.

She'd give him an escape route: _Or would you agree that having a passenger on the rear seat is safe as can be?_

Would he be able to hide his relief? From her trained eye?

Joseph would readily agree. Knowing him he had already worked out a different scenario, one that excluded anyone to sit on her motor cycle's rear seat.

Back to reality.

Tonight she would attend the opening night of _Wonderful town_. She hadn't yet told her dress maid which gown she would wear: a Valentino which would show modest cleavage, or an Armani which bared her shoulders and part of her back.

The choice was easily made now. After all: Joseph would stand behind her most of the time...

A shiver of anticipation ran through her body.

Poor Joseph. She would tease him mercilessly.


End file.
